The truth, he doesn’t want to be known,
Strangling me with fast, strong hands
And honesty’s bright white light blinding
Me. He constricts my neck to forbid speech.
My brain swirling as it’s very cells die.
Why do you fight so hard against me?
It would be easier to curl up in fetal
Restraint and live among the flowers
Of deception, so pretty their hues that hide
Their poison, where tall trees provide shade
From the brutal orb and blackness provides
The calm security of company. The most
Traveled road, it’s path is well sown.
I find it solitary in serenity’s seclusion,
And the quiet haunts the fragile span
Of my mind. I’d like an even chance
To spiral inward toward the core of truth.
Where shall I start to improve my chances?

06/29/2005

Posted on 06/29/2005
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